Round Off
by HollyandHawthorn
Summary: A tale of Blaine's hatred of football, and his love for cheerleaders.AU
1. Barbie and the String

**Round Off - Chapter 1** by HollyandHawthorn_  
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_I need to know if this is okay, because I'm not really familiar with writing this kind of stuff. Just let me know what you guys think? If I should continue or just, not._

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><p><em>Blaine as learned many lessons in friendship in his short sixteen years, those worthy of trust, and those that will destroy you for the things we can't change. He's sure he's got it down to an art, friendship, until somebody walks right on into his life and turns everything he knows onto it's head.<em>

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><p><span>Barbie and the String.<span>

Blaine wouldn't really say that his childhood was particularly remarkable, in fact for the most part, his time in Elementary school had been just like every other child in Ohio.

He had two parents who claimed to love him unconditionally, a puppy named Mia who really did love him unconditionally, and too many friends for him to possibly count at such a young age.

He even had a best friend, a lovely girl with pretty blonde hair and bronze eyes. Her name was Quinn, and she had the biggest collection of Barbie dolls that Blaine had ever seen.

She would sit next to him in class and help him with his Math, and at lunchtime the two of them would hide around the back of one of the classrooms and play with Quinn's Barbies until the bell rang.

They never really wanted to hide, but all the other girls would tease Quinn for still liking Barbie, and the boys would pick on Blaine because he would rather play with Quinn and her Barbies than play football with them. So they sat themselves away from all the other kids, hidden away in their own little world where liking Barbie was okay.

It was a friendship Blaine now considers to be one of many things he took for granted as a child, because despite all the irregular things about him as a boy, Quinn had never once questioned him. She had never asked why he liked his two ken dolls to be dads together, and she never asked him why he wasn't like all the other boys that played football and spat on the ground.

She's probably one of the only people Blaine has ever known that never judged him for his choices, and just like Mia, she seemed to love him as unconditionally as he loved her.

They had known each other for three years when Santana had come along, the resident new girl at their school, dressed in a pretty blue dress and a bashed up pair of shoes that looked so loved it made Blaine smile. She had found them after about a week of being there, peeking her head around the wall of their hiding place and smiling timidly at them.

Quinn had been the first to introduce herself, picking up her favourite mermaid Barbie from the floor and offering it to the dark haired girl who plopped down next to her and introduced herself with a bright smile before picking up a hairbrush and proceeding to neaten up the Barbie doll.

She sat with them in their classes, and soon enough Blaine felt that he loved her just as much as he loved Quinn, even though the two of them were so infinitely different.

Sometimes, when the girls were making fun of Quinn like they usually did, Santana would stand up and make some snappy remark that would make Blaine's jaw drop onto the ground. She would pull herself up to her full height and put her hands on her hips, and then all the girls would leave Quinn alone for a few more days.

They had become inseparable as time went on, and Blaine had gotten to such a point that he couldn't imagine surviving the rest of his life without the two of them being there for him to help with his math and make him laugh.

When his parents had told him they were moving to another town, Blaine had been devastated. He remembers the crestfallen looks on both Quinn and Santana's faces when he told them like it had happened yesterday, the tears shining on Quinn's cheeks as she hugged him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and telling him that she would never forget about him.

Santana had been just as upset as Quinn, biting at her bottom lip as her little shoulders shook and her hands balled into tight fists. "You're always going to be my best friend," she had whispered, "I promise."

Blaine feels like that had been the moment that his heart had first broken, seeing his two best friends crying in front of him, and knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it, because his parents were making him move away, and he was never going to find two friends like this ever again. He had told them that he would always love them, and when he had clambered into his car on the day he was leaving forever, Santana had tied a single piece of blue string around his right wrist, smiled weakly at him, and slammed the car door shut.

He still has that piece of string around his wrist now, though all the colour has drained out of it and it's edges are frayed and brown. It's all he has left of that part of his life, the Ken dolls are long gone, and Mia is looking old and grey nowadays, her head resting in his lap when he arrives home from school everyday, throwing the Dalton blazer over the back of his desk chair and collapsing onto his bed, scratching behind her ears as he lets his eyes close with a longing sigh.

So much has changed since his time with Quinn and Santana, he has scars on his back and calluses on his fingers, his curls have been forced into submission, and his parents no longer pretend to love him.

He's learned now that the world is a lot uglier than it was to a ten year old, and that people are far more unforgiving and violent when you turn out to be the only gay kid in your school.

His parents had transferred him to Dalton when he reached high school, had told him that his grades had to stay high, or else they would simply throw him back into the public system without a second thought. Blaine threw himself into his schoolwork at first, keeping his head down and doing his best to keep his distance from all the other students.

It only took a few weeks before two somewhat eccentric students had pounced on him in the hallway, introducing themselves as Wes and David, and dragging him off to their lunch table without even asking him for his own name.

"You're Blaine, right?" the boy named Wes had asked.

"Can you sing?" the one named David asked before Blaine could answer.

"Uh, I guess," Blaine had blinked at the two of them in confusion, cracked his knuckles under the table out of habit and shuffled uncomfortably as Wes started speaking about 'The Warblers' and how they were holding auditions that afternoon. Blaine never really had a choice in the matter, being dragged along by the pair of them the second he stepped out of his Geography classroom that afternoon and down a corridor Blaine had never even seen before.

The Warblers have become like a family to Blaine, and their trusting gaze reminds him so intimately of his days back in Elementary school that it makes him shiver. He hadn't seen either of his best friends since he had left Lima, but he never lets a day go by without thinking about them.

He keeps on promising himself that one day he'll just drive right back into Lima and seek out the two girls, pull them into a hug and never let either of them go. He still wonders if Quinn is as impartial and understanding as she used to be, and whether Santana even remembers tying the piece of string around his wrist.

It's nearly broken a few times over the years, the first being the time he got it caught on a piece of wire fence at his old school. His heart had started racing when he realised, and he spent a good five minutes trying to unhook it as carefully as possible from the wire. It was still blue back then. The other time that it had almost broken was the time that a few of his friends had beaten the crap out of him at a football game.

He remembers Alex, a tall blonde boy that had befriended him in his first week, hooking his fingers under the string as he held Blaine's arms against the ground, laughed at how wide his eyes went at the action and spat in his face. Somehow, Blaine had crawled away from that with the string and a tiny shred of his dignity still intact.

He'd become fond of it, and protective, hiding it under the cuff of his white button up at school to avoid obvious questions, and playing with it on the nights when he couldn't sleep.

Right now, he's sitting at the lunch table toying with it, running callused fingers across it's surface and smiling stupidly to himself. He can feel Wes' eyes on him, but he doesn't take any notice, dropping his hands back to the table and staring down at his lunch.

"So Blaine," David calls loudly across the table.

"Hmm?" He replies, keeping his eyes on his lunch.

"There's a football game on this Saturday, Wes and I were going to see if we could score seats behind the cheer leaders, wanna come?"

Blaine scoffs, looking up at the two boys incredulously, "Okay, one, what the hell are your _girlfriends_ going to say? And two, why would I want to go to a football game? I hate football, you know that," he raises a hand to silence David's obvious answer, "and I'm definitely not going for the short skirts."

Wes seems to think very hard about this, "Oh! I know, you can go for the players, I'm sure you'd love a little muscle to-"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Wesley."

"Why not?"

"Because this is Ohio." Blaine turns his attention back to his cold lunch and wrinkles his nose. "Because I don't want to get the shit beaten out of me by the same muscle you expect me to perve on. And anyway, I'm not really into muscles."

"What are you into then?" Wes prods, pointing his fork at Blaine as though he can coax a truthful answer out of him with it.

"Oh, I dunno," Blaine pretends to think for a moment, "Boys in blazers, dark hair, gavel wielding..." Wes' face goes a very odd shade of white as David starts to cackle next to him. Blaine smiles, "I'm joking, Wes."

"Oh, thank god!" Wes punches David in the arm as he continues laughing loudly, pointing at Wes and holding a hand to his ribs. "Shut up, would you?" Wes glares at him, before turning back to his own lunch and muttering under his breath.

Blaine shakes his head, spearing his fork into a very unappealing piece of carrot as David finally starts to calm down.

When he finally catches his breath, he stays silent for a whole five seconds, before his loud voice draws Blaine's attention again, "Don't cheer leading squads have guys, too?" he asks.

"I wouldn't have a clue."

"I don't think Westerville High do, their coach has a bit of a weird thing about guys, or something." Wes narrows his eyes and thinks, before looking back to David. "What's the other school, again?"

"William McKinley, their cheer leading squad's won nationals like a million times in a row apparently."

"You guys know way too much about this, seriously." Blaine laughs lightly.

"Hey!" David points at him,"You may think being in an all boys school is like some weird kind of wonderland, but we definitely do not."

"Yeah, you're lucky you're not boarding, seriously, some of those guys up there must be growing cultures or something in their rooms, because it reeks." David nods solemnly as Wes pats him gently on the arm. "How do expect us to waste our time on the weekends?"

"Uh, go visit your girl-"

"Enough with the attitude Blaine Anderson," Wes clicks his fingers dramatically and Blaine rolls his eyes.

"Whatever."

"So anyway, back to the point," David silences Wes' protest with a finger, "You coming to this football game or do we have to give the third ticket to Thad?"

Wes shudders and practically jumps across the table at Blaine, knocking his own food aside as he grabs hold of Blaine's lapels, "Please come," he whines, "If I have to sit through another football game with Thad I think I may actually rip my own hair out."

"I'm sure McKinley has some guys cheer leaders?" David adds helpfully as he drags Wes back across the table.

Blaine sighs and picks up his schoolbag, "Fine, I'll go."

"I LOVE YOU!" Wes yells at the top of his lungs and just about pounces back across the table. Everyone around them turns to look as David struggles to hold him away from a shocked looking Blaine, who stands very abruptly and leaves the two of them to it.

They're definitely two of the oddest people Blaine's ever met, but for some reason he finds their quirks far more endearing than most of the frustrated students around them. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that they have trusted him so blindly for so long, they know next to nothing about his past, they don't question his home life, in fact, Blaine's amazed that they even know that he's gay.

That seemed to be something they figured out pretty quickly, though, because if Blaine remembers correctly, it had only taken ten or so minutes of meeting him for them to ask if he had a boyfriend. He had sat so still in that moment that he's pretty sure his heart had actually stopped beating. Nobody had ever reacted positively to Blaine's sexuality, his parents had pushed him away as subtly as they could, and when the kids at his school caught wind of it, well, Blaine's back can tell that story for him just fine.

Of course, nowadays Blaine's sexuality was very much old news at Dalton, though he doubts it had ever really been new news in the first place. Dalton is so unlike everywhere else in Ohio, even the coffee shop down the street is like some whole other world. It's almost like Dalton is the classroom he and Quinn had once hidden behind to play Barbie.

When Blaine steps out of Geography at the end of the day, he has every intention of driving straight over to that coffee shop he had been thinking about and injecting some caffeine into his frazzled brain. He almost asks Wes and David to tag along, before thinking better of it and walking out to his car on his own. There really is so much Blaine can take of Wes and David's crazy before he starts feeling like he's going to implode.

The drive is quite, his radio turned low so the soft melody is barely a hum in his ears.

He orders his coffee and sits down near a window, watching a couple banter outside while he drinks, fidgeting with the rim of his cup and sighing. He likes to think that things have gotten better since he left his old school, Wes and David seem to think so, considering the amount of push and shove they put in to try and find Blaine a boyfriend.

He wouldn't say he's reluctant so much, but nobody really seems to appeal to him around here. Nobody can make him laugh all the time, get under his skin enough for him to really open his eyes and notice them, but he doesn't mind. Honestly, he's sure that he can wait it out til college, where the people are less likely to kill you on the street.

Even if he really, really wants a boyfriend.

His fingers curl tight around his half empty coffee cup and he draws his eyes away from the affectionate display outside. He lives in Ohio, and in Ohio, the boys think you're weird if you don't play football, and they think you're dirt if you're gay.

Maybe he'll move to New York when he graduates, find a shoebox of an apartment to live in and play guitar on street corners to pay the rent. At least the people are kinder there. Maybe he'll find himself a someone handsome and smart, and they can live in the shoebox together and get a bird or something.

He steps out of the coffee shop with his hands stuffed into his pockets, climbs into his car and starts the engine. Maybe one day he'll find someone to love him.

He shrugs his blazer off and drapes it over the vacant passenger seat, turns the radio up and pulls out of the little parking lot. Maybe if he gets home quick enough he won't have to put up with another interrogation from his father.

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><p>Blaine doesn't even know what he's doing.<p>

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel and his keys still swing in the ignition, eyes wide and staring straight ahead into the darkness.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, but still he doesn't move. He doesn't know how he had let Wes and David persuade him so easily that coming to a football game was such a great idea. He can hear the rumble of crowds as they climb the bleachers a few hundred meters away, feel his phone buzz again in his pocket, and he finally moves, switching off his headlights and stuffing his keys into his pocket.

He swallows thickly, pulls his phone out and glares down at the fifteen messages Wes and David have sent him in the ten minutes it took him to drive here. He doesn't even bother to check them, climbing out of his car and cringing at the loud crunch of gravel under his feet.

Okay, so maybe he's overreacting, just the slightest bit, but Blaine's pretty sure that being back at a public school is about the most terrifying thing in the entire world, especially considering he's here for a _football game_ of all things. Maybe he should just call and tell Wes he's sick or something, get back in his car and drive home to hide under the blankets in his bed, at least nobody's going to beat the crap out of him there.

As if on cue, his phone start buzzing again in his hand, and he glances down to see Wes' name flashing across the screen. He'll just tell him he's sick.

"Hey Wes, I-"

"Dude, are you here yet? We saved you a seat."

"Well, uh-"

"You're going to love it, seriously, wait til you get an eyeful of the head cheerleader."

"Wes, how many times do I have to tell you-"

"-You're not into the skirts, I know that, idiot. I'm pretty sure that he's definitely not wearing a skirt though."

"Wait, what?"

"The head cheerleader, he isn't wearing a skirt." Wes shouts through the earpiece, "Just, hurry up, Blaine, we're on the McKinley end."

Blaine sighs heavily and looks over towards the field, then back to his car longingly, "Fine, I'm coming."

"Okay, Bye!" the dial tone begins ringing in his ear as Wes hangs up. He drops the phone back into his pocket and huffs to himself. They really shouldn't be as persuasive as they are, but then again. McKinley's head cheerleader is a guy?

He's going to get the crap beaten out of him if he even looks at him, he just knows it. Cheer leaders are like the Royalty of High School, and Blaine was the scum on their shoes. For some reason that he cannot fathom, he's already walking off in the direction of the field, chewing on his bottom lip and trying to push all the thoughts of big football players kicking his teeth out.

He's going to kill Wes and David.

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><p>Questions queries etc. should go straight in my askbox on tumblr, <strong>straylya . tumblr . com<strong>

To continue or not to continue, that is the question.


	2. Football and the Field

**Round Off - Chapter 2** by HollyandHawthorn_  
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_Congratulations to all of you on managing to nag me into doing this, I've spent a little while working on the plot and it's actually pretty interesting as it turns out, so we'll see how things go. _

_PS. I like reviews, great or small, don't be frightened to say hello, anonymous is on, just don't abuse me, please?  
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><p><em>This one has a little bit more of Blaine's background, a lot of Wes and David's weirdness and a bit about Blaine's sudden willingness to overcome his disinterest in football. Hope you enjoy. x<br>_

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><p><span>Football and the Field<span>

Blaine drops down next to an over excited Wes several minutes later with his hands in his pockets and his eyes trained very carefully on the ground, he spares a glance for his friends, offering a small smile as he drops down onto the bench amongst the red and white clad fans feeling just slightly out of place in his blue Dalton hoodie.

"What took you so long" Wes prods him lightly in the ribs, keeping his wide eyes trained on the backs of the cheerleaders heads. "You missed out on David managing to fall over a clump of grass."

"It wasn't a clump of grass, it was a rock, or something."

"Whatever!" Wes finally peels his eyes away from the girls to look over at David incredulously, "You're just too pompous to admit that you're clumsy."

"I'm not pompous!" David puts a hand to his heart in feigned shock, "Blaine, tell him I'm not-"

"I can't believe you fell over a clump of grass," Blaine laughs, shaking his head and relaxing slightly into his seat. These two seemed to be good at settling Blaine's nerves, even if they could be annoying as all hell sometimes. "And you're definitely not pompous, except for the whole pinky thing when you're drinking tea, that is, just a tad-"

"Ha! See!" Wes points at his friend in triumph, David giving Blaine a very good 'how-could-you' face before he returns to arguing about which cheerleader is better, Wes, it seems, has taken a particular shining to a dark haired girl whose face Blaine can't see. He sighs, smiles slightly to himself and watches as the players walk out onto the field.

The McKinley football team, as it turns out, are actually pretty good at football. Blaine figures this out about fifteen minutes in because this side of the bleachers seems to be doing a lot more cheering than the other. He claps along politely for the most part, listens to Wes and David's running commentary of the cheerleaders and picks at a loose thread on his jumper.

"... don't even know why so many of them are blonde, it's weird. Woah! Hello, Blaine's boy is in the house!"

Blaine's eyes snap up, first to stare at a chirpy Wes and David, and then to follow their gazes down to the group of cheerleaders on the sideline. They're facing the crowd now, clapping neatly in sync and smiling broadly, several of them belting out chants that Blaine can't quite make out. He scans the line carefully until his eyes come to an abrupt stop, honing in on the very centre of the line.

His heart seems to stop beating for just a second.

Oh, wow.

The boy claps along with girls before raising his arms above his head, a slightly crooked smile on his pointed face and his chestnut hair pushed away from his face neatly. His eyes shine even from a distance, and Blaine is pretty sure he's never seen anybody quite like him before.

He watches as the boy moves gracefully through an obviously well practised routine, still smiling crookedly up at the audience as girls around him continue to chant loudly. He's gorgeous.

Blaine is going to die. He blinks quickly at this realisation, snapping his eyes back to his shoes and exhaling heavily. He's sitting at a high school football game in _Ohio_ for Christ's sake, he can't just go gaping at other guys around here, in fact, he's lucky he's even made it the whole twenty minutes into the game that he has without just getting up and leaving.

He can't do this. They'll kill him.

"... and then we can paint rainbows all over his walls and walk around his house with maracas."

"Or maybe we could, I dunno, get a horse from... somewhere."

Blaine looks over at Wes and David slowly, keeping his face expressionless as he listens to the two of them plot happily with one another. He doesn't understand them. At all.

People often question Blaine's 'obtuse' choice of friendship, asking how he can possibly manage to tolerate the pair of them at the best of times. Blaine's answer more often than not entails something along the lines of 'They're always there for me,' and 'sometimes a little crazy in your life is just what you need.'

Maybe that's why Blaine is here, sitting with his hands still stuffed into his pockets looking absolutely petrified by everything around him, with Wes and David bickering like an old married couple next to him. Because being a bit crazy can be good sometimes, right?

He finally works up the courage to look away from his shoes, glancing around at the surrounding people quickly before turning back in the vague direction of the football game. Nobody seems to even notice he's there. And why would they? They don't even know his name, or anything about him for that matter.

He doesn't need to be scared. He doesn't. He shouldn't.

"You look like you accidentally ate peanuts again," Wes waves a hand in front of his face, "without the swelling of course. You alright?"

Blaine turns to look at his friends, because he isn't really sure what the answer to that question is. "I think so," he says at last, turning back to the game and smiling just the tiniest bit. Wes seems to find his answer satisfactory, because within a few moments he's back to discussing something to do with horses and paint colours with David. Blaine makes a note to keep his eyes on all the horses around Westerville for a while.

He manages to actually watch the game for a whole to minutes this time around, before his chin is resting in his palms and his eyes have managed to sneak their way back over to the boy cheerleader, who is now standing off to the side of the chanting girls, hands on his hips and head tilted slightly to the side. With him, stands the same dark haired girl Wes had been admiring earlier, and a blonde girl with a ridiculously pretty face.

He stares at the trio's profiles for quite a while, watches the tap of the boy's fingers on his hip and the flex of his arm muscles when he shifts from on leg to the other. It's only when he actually manages to tear his eyes away from the boy for long enough to really take in the appearance of his companions, that it hits him full in the face, like being dropped into iced water.

The blonde girl's eyes flick up to the crowd, scanning the sea of people for just long enough that Blaine can catch the shining bronze of her irises.

Quinn.

He stops breathing in that moment, his eyes widening and his hands finally leaving his pockets to grip hard at the rough edge of the wooden bench, turning his knuckles white as his eyes flick to the other girl, who says something Blaine can't hear from up here, she laughs, turns to Quinn and smiles broadly.

Blaine's fingers subconsciously reach for the ragged string around his wrist.

"Hey, guys?" Blaine keeps his eyes trained on the group of cheerleaders as he speaks, "Where exactly is McKinley again?"

He can feel the pair of them staring at him, "It's in Lima, why?"

Blaine nods slowly, fingers toying with his piece of string. His throat suddenly tight and stupidly dry.

"You sure you're alright, Blaine?" Wes nudges him gently.

This is all really weird. "Yeah," he clears his throat, "I'm fine."

And then suddenly, he's smiling like an idiot. He wants to get up and jump over the fence and just crush the pair of them into the tightest hug he can manage, pick them up and spin them around and squeal like he's five again. But he won't, not yet anyway. He watches as both the girls link their arms through the chestnut haired boys arm and drag him off back towards the group of cheerleaders still dancing.

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><p>By the time the game has ended, Blaine is pretty sure that McKinley has won by an obscene margin, the crowd around him laughing loudly and cheering as they walk down the bleachers and back in the direction of the parking lot. Wes and David stand, and look down at him expectantly.<p>

"You getting up? Or was that head cheerleader a lot prettier than we first thought."

"Oh my god! Wes! Don't- just..." Blaine flushes to the tips of his ears. "You guys go ahead, I have some people I need to talk to."

"Oh, I see how it is then." Wes puffs out his chest and puts his hands on his hips, nose in the air, "Are we not interesting enough-"

"A little too interesting, actually. Calm down, would you?" Blaine laughs lightly at Wes, "It's not like I'm declaring the end of our friendship just because I'm not going to walk you to your car, princess."

Wes suddenly smiles so brightly it's frightening, "Princesses! Why didn't I think of that! David, come on!"

"Oh, here we go." David rolls his eyes and winks at Blaine as Wes bounds down the bleachers and out of sight, "see you at school."

And then they're gone, and Blaine is pretty much alone on the bleachers, with the exception of the couple quite engrossed in each other's faces behind him. He puts his chin back into his hands for a moment, watching the huddle of cheerleaders at the centre of the field as they laugh and fuss over their ponytails.

The gorgeous boy is still standing with Santana and Quinn, at the centre of the cheerleaders, speaking loudly and waving hi hands about for several minutes until finally they all start to disperse. Blaine stands quickly, jumping down the three rows of benches in front of him and jumping the low fence easily.

He starts walking briskly in the direction of the group, now spread over a much larger area than before, scanning across the countless faces until he hears it.

"Oh my god, Blaine?"

His head whips around to the right, where Santana stands stock still and wide eyed, behind her, Quinn and the boys footsteps falter as they turn to look at Santana.

And then Blaine is on the ground.

Santana squeals so loudly in his ears they start to ring, her arms wrapped around him on the ground and her legs kicking excitedly next to his. She brings her hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks and sitting back just far enough to look at him properly, "You came back!" she squeals before pressing her lips to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks and finally his mouth.

Her lips taste lip cherry lip gloss and Gatorade. "Yeah," he says lamely.

"Oh my god," She sits up properly then, straddling his hips and turning to look behind her, "Quinn! It's Blaine!"

"What?"

"Blaine! Like, _Blaine _Blaine!"

Blaine scrabbles up onto his elbows just in time to be flattened back into the ground as Quinn practically throws herself on top of him, her eyes sparkling in the spotlights as she smiles at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing just as loudly as Santana. His ears are definitely ringing now.

"Where have you been hiding?" Quinn asks him when she finally lets go of him, sitting back on her knees in the grass, Santana is still perched happily on his hips, weird.

"In Hell," Blaine answers quietly, smiling up at his friend before he starts to laugh, tears stinging just behind his eyes. Oh, god, he's missed them so much.

"It can't have been that bad," Santana plays with the string on his hoodie, "You look like something pulled out of a fifties movie, it's cute."

Blaine blinks up at her, "It was pretty bad, actually." He smiles at her and tries again to sit up properly. "I was just starting to think I'd never find you guys, and I must admit, the last place I would've looked was a freaking cheer leading squad!"

"A lot has changed," Quinn chirps beside him.

"You can say that again," he replies.

It's at that moment that an unfamiliar voice cuts through the trio's reunion, "I'm going to admit as terrible as your so called dating habits are Santana, you do have far better taste than most of the girls in this school."

All three of them turn to look up at the cheerleader Blaine had been admiring earlier, with his arms crossed over his chest and a playful smirk on his face.

"You've got to be joking, right?" Santana glances back at Blaine and laughs, "His clothes actually fit and he's got like, the most amazing personality in the entire world, obviously gay."

Blaine practically chokes on his own tongue, coughing and spluttering as he looks up at an amused Santana, who thumps him twice on the back before looking up at the cheerleader. Blaine is going to die. How the hell did she even -

"You're right about the clothes, can't speak so much for the personality though," the boy takes several steps forward until Blaine has to look right up at him, right into eyes the colour of spring.

"Blaine, this is Kurt, our resident pain in the ass head cheerleader." Santana wraps an arm around one of of Kurt's calves and giggles. "Kurt, this is Blaine, the one Quinn never shuts up about."

"Oh wow, hi! Nice to finally put a name to a face." Kurt smiles widely at him and Blaine feels like his whole body has turned to lead. "So girls," he turns to face the two other cheerleaders sprawled across the ground with Blaine, "I'm pretty sure you said that if I managed to pull off that Cupie perfectly you'd be taking me to Breadstix, and since my neck is still in tact..."

"I totally forgot about that," Santana lets go of Kurt's leg and looks up at him with a furrowed brow, "can Blaine come?"

"You sound like a five year old," Kurt shakes his head and laughs, "A very sexually driven five year old."

"Please Kurt! You'll love him, seriously, he's like a big ball of adorable."

Blaine snorts, "You've only seen me like, two seconds and you're already convinced that I'm still a big- what?"

"Come on, Kurt! Look at him!"

Blaine really doesn't know what he's gotten himself into now, between the girl still sitting on his hips, Quinn's amazing smile pressing into him with frightening intensity and this guy standing there, raking his eyes over him with an expression that Blaine doesn't really understand.

"Okay, yes. He can come! You're paying anyway, and who knows, maybe Blaine here can inject a little normal into our conversation." Kurt smiles in a way that Blaine thinks is supposed to be friendly, and the leaden feeling his muscles seems to multiply by ten.

"Yay!" Santana finally jumps up off of him, leaps over his legs and presses a kiss to Kurt's cheek before skipping off towards what Blaine presumes is the change rooms.

"She's such a handful," Quinn sighs, "see what you left me with, Blaine? A little girl obsessed with string bracelets and after school dance classes. Worst part is, she can be so clumsy when she's excited."

"You can say that again," Kurt laughs lightly, keeping his eyes on Blaine as he helps Quinn to her feet. "So, Blaine Anderson." he smirks down at him, "Up for a fun filled evening of pasta and gossiping about Santana's sex life?"

Blaine laughs nervously, "Yeah, I guess."

"Good," Kurt offers him a pale hand and smiles that same crooked smile he'd been wearing earlier, "Because I'm probably going to need a little normal when I spend all day with these crazies." He jabs a thumb in the direction of Quinn's back as she strolls in the direction of the change rooms, twirling occasionally on her toes. Blaine takes Kurt's hand after few seconds of silence, his skin is warm and smooth, and it makes Blaine's skin tingle.

Maybe football isn't so bad, after all.

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><p><em>All will come together sooner or later, I have faith in them. Again, questions go to <strong>straylya . tumblr . com<strong> _

_I hope that didn't suck!_


	3. Breadstix and the Boy

**Round Off - Chapter 3** by HollyandHawthorn

_I think I love this story, and I don't even care if nobody is reading by the time I've finished it, because all of the characters are just scream "Love me, Ashleigh! Love me!"_

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><p><em>I'm in a very cheerleaderish state of mind at the moment, and while I really feel the inkling to write some rocket-fuelled Santana, this chapter is very Quinn-esque. Oh well, I like both of them equally, and this Quinn is truly a beautiful young lady. I hope you guys love her just as much as I do.<em>

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><p><span>Br<span>eadstix, and the Boy.

When the three cheerleaders finally re-emerge from the changerooms, matching cheerleading jackets thrown over their uniforms and bags in hands, Blaine has already made himself quite comfortable in the grass, playing around with his shoelaces and holding his phone to his ear, Wes' exciteable voice emanating loudly from the earpiece.

"You're missing out, Blaine! You should really reconsider coming to board, turns out Trent's got the biggest collection of board games I've ever seen!" Blaine laughs lightly at his friend, still looking down at his shoes as a voice in the background screeches for Wes to put down whatever it is he's managed to pick up.

"Weren't you just telling me the other day that some of the boys in there are growing mould under their beds?" Blaine quirks an eyebrow as Wes sighs dramatically.

"Oh, come on! At least we all love you here," Blaine winces at what Wes is implying, knowing all too well that the boy's opinion of Blaine's parents is definitely less than favourable, "Hey, what's this?" Another round of screeching and the static sound of a phone being dropped tell Blaine that it's probably best to just leave the boys to it, especially considering how poor Wes is at multitasking. He hangs up before Wes has a chance to pick up his phone, shaking his head at the screen before stuffing it back into his pocket and looking up.

Right into the eyes of a rather mischievous looking Santana, who tugs him wordlessly to his feet and slings an arm over his shoulders. "I hope you like pasta, hot stuff," she says cheerfully, hoisting her bag higher on her free arm and steering him in the direction of the carpark, "Breadstix does a pretty mean carbonara."

"Personally I prefer the salad," Kurt pipes up from behind them, winking at Blaine as he laces his fingers into Quinn's.

Oh. Okay then.

Blaine looks up at Quinn, who seems perfectly unfazed by the action, as though it's second nature. He doesn't know why he's so surprised, he hasn't seen her in years, and there's no way that she's still the ten year old girl he left behind, and he knows absolutely nothing about this Kurt kid.

Except for the fact that he looks absolutely_ flawless._

Santana snorts loudly at Blaine's side, turning back to look at the pair, "That's just because you have a chronic fear of calories, princess," she drawls, rolling her eyes at him.

"Settle, petals," Quinn says calmly, nudging Kurt in the ribs as he makes a face at the back of Santana's head. "Let's not bicker with company."

"Blaine doesn't count as 'company', more like 'long-lost-sibling' or something," Santana laughs, untangling her arm from around his shoulders and pressing a firm kiss to his cheek, clasping his hand and starting to actually run towards the car park, the lights of the football field fading behind them as they step out from the now deserted football field, the sight of two lone cars barely visible in the darkness. Try as he might, Blaine can't manage to slip Santana's grip, a lot stronger than he remembers, and ends up running clumsily behind her.

"Come on, you two, we have a catch up session calling our names!" Santana shouts over her shoulder, tugging Blaine up as he stumbles slightly on the uneven ground.

When they finally reach the carpark, Blaine wants nothing more than to get down on his hands and knees and kiss the hard bitumen because _thank god he didn't break an ankle._ Santana drops his hand, twirling around so that her skirt fans out around her and putting both hands onto her hips, somewhat impatient for the pair behind them to catch up. Blaine turns around after taking a moment to catch his breath and test all his joints, smiling fondly as Quinn picks her way through the mine field of lumpy grass that was most likely responsible for the tripping incident Wes had mentioned earlier.

"If only the gardener would do his damn job," Kurt groans when he stumbles after Quinn, looking flustered and slightly annoyed, grumbling wordlessly as Quinn continues dragging him through the last few metres of grass and into the carpark. "I am so suing his ass if I break something."

Santana giggles at Blaine's side, shaking her head and rolling her eyes in a way that is so familiar to Blaine it sends a shiver down his spine. Everything is so surreal.

He hasn't seen either of these girls in years, and yet in a matter of barely half an hour, they're already dragging him off to dinner.

It feels like he's finally come home.

"...so I'm going to go with Blaine, so that he doesn't manage to get himself lost, and we'll meet you and Kurt there." Quinn says, letting Kurt's hand drop back to his side before pressing a kiss to his cheek and skipping over to Blaine.

Santana looks as though somebody just stole her favorite toy, "Why don't I get to go with Blaine? I want to go with Blaine, too!" she glares at Quinn, who rolls her eyes.

"Nice to know I'm such terrible company," Kurt snorts, pulling his keys out of his bag and giving Santana a gentle push towards his car, "Come on Lopez, I can be entertaining too. Anyway, I haven't shared my thoughts on the latest McQueen collection-"

"Oh, god, save me!" Santana whines, giving in to Kurt's prods and stomping off in a huff.

"See you at Breadstix," Quinn winks, linking her arm through Blaine's and sweeping him off towards his own car. "You'll thank me later," she whispers once their far enough from Santana and Kurt for the girl to have quit glaring at the back of their heads, "She may be a little taller, but she'll still talk your ear off if you give her the chance."

"And you won't?" Blaine laughs, jumping into the driver seat as Quinn settles herself next to him, "there's no way we're driving for two hours without one of us interrogating the other."

"I'm all for equal opportunity, actually," Quinn says lightly, draping her jacket over the back of the seat as Blaine starts the car, pulling out of the carpark and onto the road. "Maybe we could just do one for one, I ask a question, then you ask one."

Blaine smiles to himself, flicks on his indicator and pulling out onto the highway. It's like nothing has changed, Santana is still ridiculously enthusiastic, maybe just a little more crude, but all the same. And Quinn, beautiful Quinn.

"I'd like that."

Quinn gives him another glowing smile, "Oh great, I'll start then?" She taps a perfectly manicured finger to her lips in thought, "Okay, what school are you going to?"

"Dalton Academy."

"The private school?"

"That's two questions, Quinn. You're cheating."

She sighs, rolls her eyes at him and gives herself a gentle slap to the wrist, "Fine, your turn then."

"Okay," Blaine pauses, keeping his eyes on the road as he tries to think of what he wants to know most, "How did you become a cheerleader?" he asks.

"Ooh, that's a good one!" she laughs, clapping her hands together and sitting up a little straighter in her seat, "Okay, I'll make it short because I, for one, want to know about that school of yours. So basically..."

As it turns out, Quinn's attempt at making things short took up a good thirty minutes of the drive, Blaine nodding occasionally and laughing in the appropriate places. She talked excitedly of dancing lessons and finally learning a round off, of Kurt convincing them to join halfway through freshman year, and Santana's hilarious victory dance when the pair of them had earned places in the country's most prestigious Cheerleading squad.

"We started off on the bottom of the pyramid of course, so now I have lovely strong arms, which is nice." She sighs, perks up again and turns to Blaine, "Okay, my turn now!"

Blaine laughs, "Okay, shoot."

Quinn seems to have forgotten about Blaine's school somewhere in the middle of her story, opting instead for what she would probably consider a reasonably innocent question, "Have you got a girlfriend?"

"Uh..." he bites his lip, wondering how exactly to approach this question. It's sounds so familiar, considering he's been asked that same question by too many people to count, the girls from Crawford, one or two of the Warblers, and his father, of course. But this is Quinn, the girl who let him play with his two Ken dolls as a kid, surely it would be that shocking if he just told her he was gay. "No, not at the moment."

"Okay," she says casually, "Your turn."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Yep!" she answers immediately, practically glowing in her seat, "His name's Finn Hudson, he's the quarter back."

A tiny, _tiny_ part of Blaine's subconscious does a victory dance that Kurt is, thankfully, not that boyfriend. He isn't really sure how he would explain away finding Quinn's boyfriend outrageously attractive.

He gives a low whistle, shaking his head slowly, "How on earth did you manage to score the _quarter back_ Miss Fabray?"

"You underestimate the power of this uniform," she laughs, blushing prettily as she busies herself fussing with her skirt. "Okay, have you got a boyfriend, then?"

Blaine nearly crashes into the ditch on the side of the road, whipping his head around to stare wide eyed at Quinn, before realising he needs to actually watch the road. He hears her laugh lightly, a flush creeping up his neck as he shuffles in his seat.

"I'm not silly, Blaine. I'm not about to start shunning you."

"O-okay, uh... No, I don't."

"Okay."

"I don't understand you," Blaine says in bewilderment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and keeping his eyes set resolutely on the road.

"I think you do, actually," her hand reaches across to rest on his knee, "You understand me more than anybody else in the world, and I like to think I understand you, no matter how long we've been apart." she gives his leg a squeeze, "And besides, I'm pretty sure I've known since the day I met you."

The conversation is dropped after that, Blaine steeing it in a much safer direction that ends with them spending the remainder of the trip talking about Santana's escapades and, once Quinn remembers, Blaine's school.

When they finally pull up in front of the little restaurant Santana seems so fond of, Quinn is in a fit of giggles at one of Blaine's many tales of Wes and David. They both enter the restaurant looking reasonably cheerful, to find Kurt and Santana sitting in a corner, menus open and a truly menacing expression on Kurt's face.

Quinn, obviously sensing some sort of a rant coming on, slides in beside a smug looking Santana and opens her own menu, leaving Blaine to sit awkwardly next to Kurt, flashing him a smile before picking up a menu.

"Next time we have a football game in Westerville, you two are driving yourselves." Kurt mutters beside him, "If I ever get stuck in a car alone with Santana again, I am not responsible for what happens."

"Calm down, lady lips, you're going to get wrinkles if you keep scowling at me like that." Santana snaps playfully, beckoning the waitress with a brisk flick of her hand.

Kurt's face just seems to grow more sour, closing his menu and glaring instead at Quinn, who just smiles knowingly at the boy, tilting her head to the side and studying him calmly.

The waitress appears, pen and notepad poised and her huge eyes blinking expectantly at them. "What can I do for you all?" she asks.

Blaine hasn't even really had a chance to look at the menu, and when Santana snatches it out of his hand he almost protests, thinking better of it when she starts to talk.

"I'll have the lasagne, and one of those pink drinks you do," she glances at Quinn, "She'll have the Spinach and ricotta penne and a coke, princess over there," she points a finger at Kurt, "will have the garden salad, easy on the dressing, and a diet coke, and new boy is getting the Carbonara and a coke."

The waitress gives a curt nod, disappearing almost instantly with the menus in hand, leaving Blaine to gape at Santana.

She laughs at him, "trust me, you'll like it," she says happily, winking at him before returning to what seems to be a game she's playing with Kurt.

Kurt, of course, is less than amused, "I swear Santana, if you keep _staring _at me like that, You'll wake up without any hair on your head."

Santana's eyes grow wide at that, her hands flying protectively to her ponytail as she shares a horrified look with Quinn, making Blaine giggle to himself. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and as he pulls it out he vaguely hears Kurt begin laughing himself.

It's a nice sound, like music, Blaine thinks.

_Are you dead? - Wes._

Blaine snorts, admiring Wes' bluntness for a moment before typing out a reply.

_Nope, I scored dinner with three of the cheerleaders - B_

_Please tell me you're kidding - Wes._

Blaine smiles, looks up at the group, who seem to be preoccupying themselves with laughing at something snappy Santana said.

"Can I ask you guys a favor?" Blaine asks once the laughter dies down.

"Sure," Quinn chirps. "What can we do for you?"

"Can I take a picture with you guys?" It sounds stupid, he knows it does, and he's praying to nobody in particular that they understand, somehow.

Santana laughs, as does Kurt, who nudges him lightly in the ribs, pushing him out of the booth and crowding all of them in together. It's extremely uncomfortable, having all four of them crammed in together, and as soon as the camera snaps Santana is practically throwing Kurt and Blaine out, returning to their own seats with another one of Kurt's faces.

The photo goes straight to Wes, who doesn't even grace him with a reply.

"Don't even think about it!" Santana yells out of the blue, Blaine's face snapping up just as he's about to shove his phone back into his jeans pocket.

She smiles prettily at Blaine, before snatching his phone out of his hand and digging her own out of her handbag. "I'm not leaving this place without a phone number, mister." She tosses her phone at him, followed quickly by Quinn's and Blaine struggles to catch them both, fumbling mid air before dropping them clumsily into his lap.

"You'd never make a good cheerleader," Kurt notes lightly, smiling at Blaine as he rests his chin in his hands, "I'd kick you off the team before you managed to drop one of the girls and break someone's neck." he laughs, keeping his eyes on Blaine as the dark haired boy blushes to his hairline, and turns his attention back to the phones in his lap.

He types his number quickly into both of the phones before looking back at the girls who are both empty handed, smirking at him as he searches for the whereabouts of his own phone.

His eyes lock on the top of Kurts head, who leans over the screen of his phone and types away like he owns the thing. Blaine raises his eyebrows and looks back to the girls, who shrug nonchalantly before doing some strange kind of high five. "You two are bizarre," he says quietly.

"And you're not?" Santana snaps playfully, "I seem to recall you being rather fascinated with those two-"

"Okay! Okay, touche`, I get it!" Blaine raises his hands in surrender as his phone slides smoothly back across the tabletop, the sound of Kurt giggling quietly making Blaine's face heat gently.

"Do I want to know?" Kurt eyes the two girls nervously before Santana turns to smirk devilishly at him. Blaine has a really bad feeling about Santana, like she's going to spill all his embarrassing childhood secrets to Kurt at their next cheerleading practice and the pair of them are going to laugh so uncontrollably at all the stupid things Blaine did as a kid.

He feels himself turn bright red just at the idea, remembering all the hours spent behind that classroom with little blonde Quinn picking out mismatched outfits for her barbies. Oh god, if Kurt finds out, he's going to think Blaine's an idiot.

"What's wrong with you?" Santana waves a hand in front of his face, eyebrows creasing gently as she looks over Blaine's face. She almost looks worried.

"Nothing," Blaine clears his throat and stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and begins fidgeting with his jumper, "is it hot in here?"

"I don't think so," Quinn seems to like the idea of inspecting Blaine's face just as much as Santana, leaning over the girl to look at him carefully, "You look a little flustered."

"Maybe you two are just making him uncomfortable with your faces pressed up so close to his," Kurt says, pushing Santana back into her seat with a gentle hand to the shoulder.

"Pretty sure people love looking at my face," Santana flicks her ponytail over her shoulder and smirks at Kurt, "Along with many other important assets."

Blaine snorts loudly at that, smiling at Quinn who rolls her eyes dramatically. "Blaine isn't here to get an eyeful of your cleavage, Santana."

"Sure he is, everyone likes looking at my boobs," she smiles proudly, and suddenly the pair of them are off, Quinn arguing in her sweet voice about how the world doesn't revolve around Santana's chest, and Santana about how it hasn't failed her yet. Blaine just blinks dumbly at them arguing, before glancing at a wide eyed Kurt who shrugs, smiling ruefully at the pair in front of him as he slips his own phone out of his pocket.

"Don't think I'm letting you get away without a number," he says quietly, handing the phone over and turning his attention back to the feuding pair in front of him.

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><p><em>I vote coffee not-date! <em>

_Hope you guys liked it. Thanks for reading. As always, questions, queries, general goodness **straylya(.)tumblr(.)com** _


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